Those alterations were made by roboticists from the Ministry of Security; they were installing an adaptation of a device used in the criminalistics-labs, to insure more uniform measurements. They'd done that already for Prince Travann, the Minister, and he'd recommended it to me." That was a shame, spoiling poor Harv Dorflay's murder plot.

Then she looked back down at her hands. Mike the Angel neither accepted nor rejected the statement. He merely waited. "He was mine," she said after a little while. "He was mine to mold, to teach, to form. The others the roboticists, the neucleonicists, the sub-electronicists, all of them were his instructors. All they did was give him facts. It was I who gave him a personality. "I made him.

Hit it with too many shocks, one right after another, and it either collapses or refuses to learn or both. "The first two times the brain was activated, the roboticists just began feeding data into the thing as though it were an ordinary computing machine. They were forcing it to learn too fast; they weren't giving it time to recover from the shock of learning.

"The brain didn't have an opportunity to recover from the learning shocks when the data was fed in too fast, so the mind cracked. It couldn't take it. The robot went insane. "Each time, the roboticists had to deactivate the brain, drain it of all data, and start over. After the second time, Dr. Fitzhugh decided they were going about it wrong, so they decided on a different tack."

At certain selected spots, Snookums would stop, put his metal arms on floors and walls, pause, and then go zooming off in another direction with Leda Crannon only paces behind him, trying to explain to crewmen as best she could. If Snookums had been capable of emotion and Leda Crannon was not as sure as the roboticists that he wasn't she would have sworn that he was having the time of his life.